Emancipation
by NoviceWordsmith
Summary: A speculative look behind the scenes at the famous tower in Genesis 11.


**Emancipation**

I am not very clever. My gifting is to travel very quickly, and to skillfully bear burdens when I travel. I know instantly whether an item can be dragged behind me or must be protected from the rigors of speed, and I am careful to handle each item correctly.

My master… _master!_ How it galls us when these people command us to address them as "master". And they call us "Helpers" with tones of contempt, as if we were nothing but rather skillful beasts. Do they think we have nothing better to do…! But we obey the calling of our Names.

My master—now he was a clever man: Carqamesh, the Name-Keeper. His Library contained lists of Names, more Names than anybody else in the world knew or could remember. He was a good businessman, too. Anyone who needed significant help eventually found themselves at the Library, calling for permission to enter. I would bring them in, and the bargaining would begin. For the negotiated fee my master would grant the person the use of a Name for a specified time. The person would leave (with my help), would summon the Named one, the task would be completed, and the Name would be forgotten. Perhaps people felt no need to memorize Names since the Library was available. Perhaps Carqamesh was one of the few people who really could memorize our Names. Whatever the reason, by the grace of the Most High, for most people our Names seemed to distort or drift away from their memory after a short while.

The way Carqamesh protected his Library was simple and ingenious. He summoned one of us to drill a cave into the face of a cliff. The cave was large enough to house his Library plus a few comfortable apartments for himself. Looking out his front door a person would see a lot of air. The door was set in a sheer face of rock, 100 feet above, 100 feet to each side, 200 feet straight down… and no stairs. To get to the Library, a person would have to ask me or another one of us, by Name, to carry him to the door. There were other Protections on the door that Carqamesh summoned and compelled by Name, which most of my fellows found difficult to bypass.

In 150 years the Library had never been broken into.

On this particular day I had brought Gilga the Architect and Tubal the Builder up to the Library. These men were in charge of the great Project on the Plain of Shinar, and Carqamesh treated them with respect, although he had difficulty being patient with Tubal.

"And how is the Project going?" he asked, offering his guests some fruit and wine.

"Very well," said Gilga. "The Tower is nearly finished, and the City is well under way."

"No more complaints?"

"Oh, well, the Grandfather grumbles about it, I hear, but nobody listens to him," said Tubal. "He hasn't even come to see it."

"Grandfather," said Carqamesh, bemused. "Noaleh, the box-builder! Does anybody care what he thinks any more?"

"Possibly his three sons," said Gilga, chuckling at the diminutive of the name. "But the rest of us feel we've been thankful enough and moved on to other things. Not that his accomplishment isn't appreciated, of course."

"So he built a big box," said Carqamesh dismissively. "He probably had Helpers do most of the work anyway. On the other hand, we've built something much more magnificent and monumental."

"Speaking of which," said Tubal, with just the slightest hint of sneer, "I assume we'll see you at the Ceremony of Binding, officiating as usual?"

"I doubt it." Carqamesh's tone suggested boredom. "I've done it so many times the thrill has worn off, and Curfin is quite capable. Really, it's just reading a list of Names and re-binding them to their assignments. The rest is mere showmanship."

"But of course you enjoy it somewhat." Tubal's innuendo was less than subtle. "Why else would you repeat it every year?"

"Don't start again!" said Carqamesh tightly. "I tell you I can't control that! One year is the absolute maximum a binding will hold, so just plan accordingly."

"Each builder knows his tools, Tubal," inserted Gilga. "You can't use a mallet alone to cut down a tree, and you can't pry a weight that is more than the pry-bar can tolerate. You manage the assembly, and let Carqamesh manage the Helpers. And think of what we're building! It will be the rallying point of our new world, the focus which will keep us together for thousands of years."

I had seen this Project: the City and its Tower. Dozens of us worked constantly to carefully separate raw tar and oil into usable, stable products. We dug the clay from the earth, packed it into innumerable bricks frames, carefully fired the bricks in huge ovens, and then hauled them by the ton to the building sites. The twelve-sided Tower was tall and impossibly thin. It must have taken much power to keep it from collapsing. When I first saw it, wonder and outrage rose up in me like incense. Did these humans think the Strong Ones they bound to uphold this Tower had no place in the Great Dance, that they had nothing better to do than hold up this monument to human arrogance? How could the Most High allow such a thing? Thoughts of refusal rose in my mind.

Then I quivered with fear, realizing how close I had come to… to… _rebellion_. We were created by the Most High, and each of us ordained to obey the summons by our Names. I am not clever, but I know obedience. I also know what happened to some of us who disobeyed the Most High. Humans have made stories about deep prisons, chains, and fire; of screaming anguish relentlessly endured with not even the escape provided by… what do they call it? Oh, yes… death.

They don't know a tenth of it.

Attention! Carqamesh called my Name. He had led the two men to the doorway and was graciously dismissing them. "Convey our visitors safely to the ground."

"Yes, Master." I picked up the two men and gently took them down to the ground so they were scarcely aware when their feet touched it. They walked away talking together, completely ignoring me. I went back to the Library, reporting the safe conduct of the guests.

"What do you think of them, Tubal and Gilga?"

"I hardly know what to think, Master," I diplomatically replied.

"No, that's not really your strength, is it?" He chuckled as he returned to his studies.

There are times that I… don't care very much… for some humans.

The next few days were routine, but somehow oppressive. The humans complained about the heat, but we felt something, too; and it certainly wasn't the weather.

The day of the Ceremony of Binding came. Carqamesh gave me the list of Names for the Ceremony, and told me to deliver it immediately to Curfin in the great hall of the base of the Tower. How I wished I could just lose that list! If not reinforced by noon that day, the bindings would be released and we Helpers who are bound to these silly tasks could rejoin the Great Dance. But I obeyed the calling of my Name. I delivered the list as ordered and then went out into the open air while the Ceremony began.

* * *

The twelve-sided hall was a magnificent construction. Aligned with the compass points, a great Wind Rose built into the tile floor stretched a straight line to the center of each wall. Heavily decorated with gold, silver and bronze, the hall glowed with sunlight reflected through carefully placed windows and mirrors arranged so light splashed high on each wall and reflected down to the floor. Curfin, the Hierophant, stood before the Eastern wall in a pool of light, his white robes heavily encrusted with jewels, dazzling the people before him. His well-trained voice filled the huge auditorium.

"Hear, O my people, mighty ones, most magnificent of Earth's inhabitants. We came to this plain, the Plain of Shinar, and saw it was good. We, the great ones, the Masters of the Earth, and Rulers of its inhabitants, decided to build a monument to our greatness; and to the greatness of our glory…"

* * *

Then it happened. The Most High came down to the City. (That is to say… well… it's very difficult to explain in terms you would understand.)

Helpers who were bound to a task called and looked longingly toward the Most High, but obeyed their binding. Those of us who were free flocked joyfully to Him. Suddenly, everything in our world, in the spiritual realm, stopped.

The Most High was not pleased.

Fear wrapped each of us in networks of dread, leeching from spirit to spirit until the whole plain writhed in bright terror. We each wailed before Him.

"Forgive me, Most High! I did not know I transgressed! I only obeyed the calling of my Name… forgive me!"

* * *

"…we have harnessed the strength and skill of the Helpers, but we build this Tower and this City by the greatness of our art and the wisdom of our minds. Survivors of the Great Catastrophe, we flourish, we grow strong - we are unstoppable!"

* * *

"Peace, little ones," the Most High said to each of us together, "Peace. It is the humans who raise themselves against Me. This disobedience and arrogance is not of your intention; you were merely the tools of its outworking."

"Then free us, Most High; free us from the binding by our Names!" The desire spread even quicker than the fear.

* * *

"And now, by the wisdom and authority of our race, I, Curfin, Hierophant of Mysteries, Knower of All Secrets, Holder of All Wisdom, and Wielder of All Power, bind these Helpers, the Servants of Mankind, to these tasks…"

* * *

The Most High regarded us with gentle indulgence. "Free you from the binding by your Names? Would you be willing to give up your strength? You, would you be willing to give up your swiftness? And you, would you be willing to give up your beauty? I cannot free you in that way without unmaking you altogether. No, you must obey the calling of your Names, but…" He calmed our disappointment, "but I can arrange it so that your Names will be called less frequently. It is done!"

* * *

Curfin stopped mid-sentence. What was he about to say? Oh, yes, the Names. Blast them for being so hard to remember, or even to pronounce. He looked down at the paper. Then he looked again. What were those strange markings?

* * *

And the Most High was gone. (Well, "gone" in one way of experiencing reality, you understand.) As we were gathered about and above the Plain of Shinar wondering what His last comment meant, the breeze brought the voices of humans. But such a curious cacophony! Sounds we had never heard before were spoken, then called out, then shouted. We laughed in joy and angelic amazement at the rich variety of languages brought about by the thought of the Most High.

* * *

Panic seized Curfin: he had less than two minutes to reinforce the bindings of the Helpers or they would be loosed. He quietly called one of the other priests to come and help, but the man looked at him as if he were crazy, then urgently motioned for him to continue. Sweating now, Curfin shouted to the man. Someone in the Hall laughed and started talking gibberish. Others shouted in different gibberish. Several priests, aware of the implications of missing the deadline and terrified, now ran over to Curfin, grabbing for the paper with the list of Names. In the melee of people grabbing at the paper to read the names, it was torn to bits, and then noon arrived.

* * *

Noon arrived. As one we dropped our burdens. Huge stones lay midway between the mountains and the City. Tons of bricks were abandoned along the building routes, tons of clay relaxed back into the earth, and suddenly unattended oil separators burst into glorious flame. Half-completed bridges and buildings tumbled to the ground. The Tower itself, released from the support of the Strong Ones, obeyed other laws of the Most High. Its huge weight crushed the lower levels then it gracefully bowed to the earth where it thundered magnificently into gravel and dust. I suppose it was unfortunate that the humans inside were crushed. We sprang into the lower heavens (…so to speak: you wouldn't understand what really happened) into the Great Dance, shouting our joy at participating once again.

Suddenly I heard my Name called. With a shock I realized that some humans still spoke the Old Language, and that Carqamesh was one of them. Disappointment choked me, but I obeyed the calling of my Name, and went to the Library.

"What is all this noise down there? What's happening?"

"Oh, Master, you should hear it!" I said excitedly. "I've never heard anything like it before: such a variety of sounds and voices!" Then I was distracted, and listened at the door. "Master, Tubal the Builder is below. Shall I bring him to you?"

"Just what I need! Oh, bring him. Maybe he can tell me what's happening."

So I brought Tubal carefully up to the door of the Library. I did not mention to Carqamesh that the two men no longer spoke the same language.

Tubal shook his head when Carqamesh gestured him into the sitting room. Standing by the door in an apparent hurry, Tubal started jabbering away. I think he wanted more spirits to haul bricks for the Project. To his intense displeasure, Carqamesh looked blankly at him, and then began to laugh. Tubal's annoyance gave way to anger, which quickly became rage as Carqamesh kept laughing. I'm afraid I agreed with Carqamesh that the sounds coming out of Tubal's mouth were quite funny.

Carqamesh stepped toward Tubal and put his arm around his shoulders. Tubal roughly shook him off, and that stopped the laughter. Carqamesh slapped Tubal hard across the cheek, perhaps thinking Tubal was hysterical. Tubal's hand shot out and his level fingers stabbed Carqamesh at the base of his throat. Carqamesh fell forward, but twisted his leg around Tubal's and pushed backward. Tubal was knocked off balance and rolled out the door. He screamed two long screams before he hit the ground.

Carqamesh gestured frantically as he lay on the floor struggling for breath, mouthing silent words. I am not clever: I really could not tell what he wanted me to do. And I did not hear my Name. Finally he lay quite still, and his little human spirit left his body.

After an hour or so I had figured out what I wanted to do. I went quickly and requested the help of a fire angel. We returned to the Library where he burned the entire contents; every book, every scroll, every bit of paper and parchment, all was burned to a fine ash which we stirred and spread to the winds.

Since that time I have traveled around the world many times at the bidding of the Most High. I have seen many things, and I've heard amazing stories. Some spirits still choose to stay close to humans, occasionally meddling in their affairs. Not me. Don't misunderstand: I obey the Most High, I do what He commands; but I will never willingly put myself in a situation where a human might learn how to call my Name.


End file.
